


The Thing About Your Father

by lo_mayesi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Sexual Content, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 18:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lo_mayesi/pseuds/lo_mayesi
Summary: His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at me.“You have no idea who I am, do you?”





	The Thing About Your Father

“Ms. Miller, you have a visitor,” A woman in all white approaches with a wide smile. I scramble my brain to remember who she is. Catherine, I think. 

 

“Yes,” I said with a curt nod. Her smile disappears a bit too soon before she turns away. In that moment, I see how tired she is. How sullen her eyes are. How shriveled her hair was, clinging to her face over a thin sheet of sweat. She turned on her heels, swishing way too fast away from the rec room. 

 

Rec room? Yes, the rec room. This room was filled with chairs and tables, and TV’s. A lounging area. I scan my eyes around the room, meeting each wrinkled, miserable face in return. Something told me smiling didn’t happen often here. 

 

My eyes wander over to the TV, a commercial flashed across the screen. A handsome man with a brilliant smile was on a boat, surrounded by beautiful women. His tousled silver hair blew elegantly back in the wind. His blue eyes squinted only slightly when he smiled. I remember his face, I saw it often enough. He seemed like a senior citizen, maybe around my age, but he was always a million times more successful than I ever was. Something in my chest tightened, it was bitter and aching. But I always felt this way whenever I saw his face. 

 

“Elise,” A gruff voice calls. 

 

A man approaches me. He is tall, and just as rough-looking as his voice sounds. He wears a simple leather jacket and white shirt with blue jeans. When he gets close enough, the stench of nicotine slaps me across the face. I always hated the smell of cigarettes. The man has platinum blonde hair and striking blue eyes. 

 

I scrunch my eyebrows. Did I know him from somewhere?

 

“Hello,” I greet in the most pleasant voice I can muster, “Are you my visitor?”

 

“Yes, Elise,” he says with a frustrated sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. 

 

Impatience. It was an emotion I recognized often in other people. My chest tightened, my right hand gripped my left one. 

“Do you recognize this person?” He flings a magazine into my arms. I stare at it for a moment before reaching into my lap. My lips purse as I uncurl my bifocals. I hold up the magazine and give it a good look. The man from the commercial earlier was on the cover. Except he was wearing shades this time around, posing strangely on the cover. 

 

“That’s the man from the commercial,” I smile up at the man. “He’s awful handsome, isn’t he?” I chuckled. To say he was a charming actor would do him an injustice. 

 

The man sighs deeply, collapsing rather roughly into the chair across from me. His hands rubs his face and he peers up at me with an ugly glare. I hear my heartbeat loudly in my ears, maybe I was breathing heavily. I couldn’t discern if he could hear, because even if he could, he certainly didn’t seem to care either way. 

 

“Elise, I need to know if you remember this man,” his voice is grave. 

 

“Why? Are you looking for him?” He says nothing as he suddenly stares at me with widened eyes, mouth a bit agape. 

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone famous.”

 

Another long moment of silence passes.

 

His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at me. 

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

 

My eyebrows furrow. Was that not already obvious? This happens often. In events like this, I made it a habit to reference my notebook. I reach down into my lap and open the simple black composite book. 

 

“What’s your name?” I ask without meeting his eyes. I didn’t want to see his frustration anymore and ignored the annoyance in his voice. He wasn’t the only one that could get impatient around here, but I still had some left. 

 

“Carter Miller,” he emphasizes each syllable loudly. 

 

“Oh, you’re my son!” My heart sank. How could I forget my own son?

 

“I’m sorry Carter,” I say quietly while closing the notes again. 

“I . . . my medication . .” I raise my eyes to meet his, acknowledging the disappointment I already knew would be there.

 

“-Do you know the man in the magazine?” He says again, cutting me off. 

 

I look at the cover again. 

“No,” I say desperately. 

 

“Elise, I’m looking for my father. You never told me who he is, and I need you to tell me now because this can change  **everything** .”

 

I shake my head, biting my finger. His father? Who was his father? It definitely couldn’t have been this actor . . . could it? I tried to desperately remember what I could about his birth, but nothing comes to mind. No man at any birthday parties, or Christmas mornings, or baby showers, or even in the hospital room as I gave birth. I was never married, there never was a ring or a wedding. Who was the father?

 

Carter shakes his head, “Mom!” His loud voice shakes me from my thoughts. 

“I need you to remember! You’re not going to ruin this for me too!”

 

My breathing becomes labored. Inevitably, words start flowing from my mouth before I can even think about what they mean or where they’re coming from:

 

“You’re just like him! Selfish. So very selfish. You’ve always been that way, that’s what I remember! You take, and take, and take until I have nothing, and once I’m empty you blame everything on me!” My voice started going hoarse from the yelling. A bunch of nurses enter the room and surround Carter. 

 

We’re both screaming. What, I don’t know. I blink, and Carter is being dragged away by a security guard, demanding me to tell me who his father is. The nurses escort me back to my room to calm down, I take the magazine with me. 

  
  


The next morning, Carter is here to see me again. The nurse, Catherine, I think, asks if I want to see him. I say yes, even though my blood is boiling the minute I hear his name. I don’t look at him when he enters. Or even when he sits down beside my bed. Several beats pass without any words being exchanged between us. 

 

“I remember who your father is,” I say while watching a bird fiddle around in a nest. Today was surprisingly nice weather, I was hoping to lounge outside for some time before Carter came to ruin that. 

 

“I’ll tell you, but afterwards I never want to see your face again. Just leave me to rot in peace.” Carter says nothing. I turn to face him, my eyes offering no hospitality this time. I don’t bother to smile either.

 

“I spent all night sifting through all of my old diaries for this. I’m tired, so stay quiet.”

I take in a deep breath:

 

“I met your father when I was twenty years old. I just dropped out of college earlier that year to become an actress: and I wanted it so bad. My parents had just kicked me out of the house, they were tired of a daughter that couldn’t keep a job and wouldn’t go to school. No gigs were calling me back. 

 

So a friend of mine told me about an old college buddy of theirs who was making a short film. Some young guy that was trying to break into the industry. It was better than nothing. I auditioned, they said they would call me back. Two weeks later I get a call from the producer, saying he wants to talk to me about the part. I was so excited. This was my big break.”

 

I sighed, the little energy I held before seemed to have escaped me now. Rocks formed in my throat, my vision blurred. No Elise, we’re not going to cry. No more damn tears. Those days are over.

 

“He invited me to his hotel room, and of course I was stupid enough to go because I was desperate. He asked me how desperate I was, how badly I wanted the part. Told me to convince him on why he should cast me. 

 

. . . I was so desperate.

 

He kept pouring wine. So much damn wine. And of course I drank it all. Drank until the room swirled and blurred into pretty colors. Next thing I know, I’m half naked on the floor, some guy breathing hot air all over me. I tried to scream, to push him off. He overpowered me in my drunken stupor. The next few minutes was pain. Then crying on the floor as a bloody mess before I finally stumbled out of the hotel room that night.

 

I never saw Sean Bybee again.”

 

Seconds clicked away on the clock. 

 

“. . . Why didn’t you try to do anything?”

 

I chuckled, a bitter laugh that stung right down to my bones, “Would you believe a girl that was so stupidly desperate and drunk at the time?”

 

Carter didn’t say anything. I didn’t think he had the audacity. 

 

“Sean Bybee is your father, Carter Miller. And if you want to spend the rest of your life chasing him down, then you can. But I didn’t sacrifice everything I could for you to hate me, and I won’t die with your pathetic face stuck in my head.”

 

“ . . . You did the best you could,” Carter mumbled, a smirk on his face.

 

I saw nothing but red, “You’re damn right I did! I worked a dead-end job for thirty-eight years for my shit of a son that I was too poor to abort!” Maybe it was too harsh, maybe I shouldn’t have said it. But I did. And at the time, I didn’t care if his feelings were hurt by it. 

 

Carter turned his head, focusing at the TV again. Bybee’s face flashed across the screen in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t care enough to look and see what he was doing. I collapsed onto my bed, trying to steady my ragged breathing. Carter was in college now, I thought. He’s still young a dumb, he’s still making plenty of mistakes. But I won’t be around long enough to see how he gets past those mistakes, and I knew that. 

 

“Did you ever love me?” It was mumbled into the blackness. I hadn’t noticed that my eyes had closed, or that I was even drifting off when he said it. I tried to will my eyelids to open, but they felt so heavy that I stopped trying almost immediately.

 

“I don’t know,” I mumbled back to the dark. 


End file.
